Sentences
by JMKelly
Summary: Hawke and Merrill are in love, Isabela has a dirty mind, Fenris hates mages, and Varric wants to make some coin. What could go wrong? One-Shot


"You? And Merrill?"

Hawke just smiled at Isabela's remark, before finishing off his drink. If there was anywhere to divulge delicate information while drinking liquid dirt, it was the Hanged Man. And by the Maker did that dirt taste good! Putting his bottle down on the table, Hawke glanced over at the bar itself, where Merrill stood, before continuing his grin

"Yes, she is rather adorable, isn't she?"

"Yes, that's a given, but won't it put a strain on... us?"

"Excuse me, us?"

Isabela placed a hand on Hawke's cheek, and started to gently stroke it. "All those flirts we've traded, conversations we've had, the gifts you've given me…"

"Those flirts were jokes," said Hawke, removing the Rivaini's hand. "and something that you started. I have conversations with you because I'm your friend, and those gifts were knives. Or daggers. I don't remember the difference."

"Relax Hawke, it was a joke."

Hawke rolled his eyes as Merrill approached with more drinks. the Dalish Elf handed a bottle to each of her friends, leaving one for herself.

"Then you need to work on your tone."

"What's all this about?" asked Merrill, confused.

"Hawke and I were just having a discussion about your… courtship."  
"I'm not courting her Isabela," said Hawke, slipping his hand into Merrill's. "We're taking things slow."

"Really? Because little Kitten here told me that you were exceptionally fast."

Hawke turned his head to Merrill, a concerned expression on his face. Merrill looked away from Hawke, and began to blush.

"It's not my fault," Merrill spit out. "She threatened me. With money. And clothes."

Isabela burst out cackling, while Hawke buried his head in his hands.

"Don't worry about it Kitten, I'm sure he won't be mad too long."

"Mad? Oh… you aren't mad, are you?"

"Merrill, you tried to kill me in a half-elf's dreams," mumbled Hawke. "If I can forgive that, I can forgive… whatever you call this."

"The destruction of a budding relationship?"

"Not helping Isabela."

"Cheer up Hawke," started the former pirate. "I know for a fact that nothing will come between you. Except maybe Carver."

"Carver?"

"Kitten, dear, could you fetch Hawke and I another round?"

"Another? But didn't I just-"

"Another. Round."

Merrill retained her confused expression, before her eyes widened.

"Oh! Oh, you're going to talk about something private. Or dirty. Or both."

"Both Merrill, definitely both. Now please, leave Hawke and I to our… business."

The human mage shuddered once Merrill has walked off. "I really hate how you phrased that."

"Well it is business to look out for a good friend."

"Look out for me by saying that my brother will destroy my relationship? I know that we didn't part on the best of terms, but I doubt-"

"No, Hawke, it's not because he hates you for being better than him-"

"Don't say it."

"Don't say what?"

"You have the perfect opportunity for a joke and you will. Not. Say it."

"What's the joke? 'In more ways than one'?"

"Maker damn it all, you said it."

"You gave me the idea. Besides, I'm sure you are better at that than he is."

"We've gotten off subject."

"We have, haven't we? Well, Carver will try to end Hawke and Merrill because he loves her."

"Carver? Love Merrill? He could barely stand Bethany and our father for being mages, and he loves Merrill? The mage-iest mage to ever mage?"

"The third mage-iest. You and Anders top her."

"She's still magey."

"And Carver still loves her."

"I highly doubt it will amount to anything. He's a Templar, barely visits, even when he can, and even then, I highly doubt Merrill will leave me because of some scheme he's to devise."

Merrill returned with three drinks, a reluctant smile on her face.

"Are we done with the private, dirty thing yet?"

Isabela grabbed a drink from Merrill, and took a swig of it. She spit the drink out, and onto an unsuspecting patron, before returning the swill to Merrill.

"It's not to my liking Kitten. Please, get us another."

Merrill slumped her shoulders in defeat, turning around. Hawke grabbed her hand, and pulled her closer to the table.

"No, Merrill, these are fine," the mage glared at Isabela. "Thank you."

"Not my fault I didn't like it."

"That… that doesn't even make sense!"

"I thought it did," said Merrill, before thinking over the statement. "Oh, wait… No. No, I'm with Hawke. Sorry Isabela."

"Eh, I'm no Varric."

"Excuse me?"

A chuckle echoed throughout the tavern. Having already come down from his 'suite', Varric took his seat next to Isabela.

"Isabela was just discussing how my relationship with Merrill is doomed to fail."

"I was not! I'm just worried for your this little ball of cute you have going, however disgusting I may find it."

"C'mon Rivaini, it's not that bad. If I wrote it down, it'd actually sell pretty well, be a welcome diversion from that mess that calls itself literature. I just need a title..."

"Varric, not to intrude," intruded Hawke, "but are you really comparing Merrill and I to Hard in Hightown?"  
"Daisy, tell me you wouldn't want to read about the dashing mage finding love with the Dalish outcast, fighting against demons and social norms alike."

"Well, when it's put like that…"

"Merrill!"

"Let her speak for herself Hawke. It's not like Varric will actually write the damn thing."

"Mirror Image? Questioning Beliefs? Wait… A New Path! That's it!"

"Varric, you are not writing this!"

"Not writing what?"

Fenris, the white-haired, deep voiced elf propped himself against a wooden support beam, drink in hand.

"Oh, Varric wants to write a book about Hawke and I, Hawke doesn't want him to, and Isabela supports freedom of speech."

"Hmph, can't say I'll be reading about lovey-dovey mages."

"Did you just say 'lovey-dovey'?"

"Only because the situation demanded it, Dwarf."

"I highly doubt that anything demands saying 'lovey-dovey'."

"My 'admirer'?" Isabela smirked.

"Oh Blessed Andraste, I forgot about him! Damn, 'Your lips are like the wings of sparrows'."

"''Red ones'."

"'With no feathers'."

"Speak, and let the plucked wings of your lips soaring'!"

The table burst out into laughter, a drink or two spilling in the hilarity of it all.

"Next round's on me Hawke…"

"I'm sensing an 'if', Varric."

"If you let me write my book."

"Merrill, are you-"

"Oh, yes. I mean, Varric's great at telling stories, and we've certainly had an interesting one, not to brag, but it does have demons, and Darkspawn, and Qunari, and love, and… babbling. Lots of babbling, sorry."

Hawke nudged his companion. "It's cute. Alright Varric, you have your story."

"Thanks Hawke, I'll let you pick the first sentence."

"I'm honored, Varric."

"Please," interrupted Isabela, "keep your balls from shriveling up and be done with it. I have places to be." The pirate managed to sneak in a wink to Fenris.

"As… do I," muttered the Elf in response.

"Fine, fine. I'll find a good starting line…"

"Start it on Sundermount, the day we met."

Hawke smiled at Merrill, sliding himself closer to her.

"'When Hawke first experienced the dew and dirt of Sundermount, he knew he would never wish anything to do with it. How wrong he was.'"

The two mages' lips came together, and while a short embrace, it was full of love, passion, and ended reluctantly, as ever.

"That was two sentences Hawke."

"Shut up Varric."


End file.
